Up from Canaan
by LaSemeuse
Summary: Beverly becomes entangled in events beyond her control. Can she find a way out before it's too late?
1. Up from Canaan 1

Paramount: "Along with Wal-Mart and Fox, we own everything in the Western world." Their house, my architecture.

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"I'm not your land of Canaan, oh sweetheart, waiting for you under the sun. I'm lonely tonite, I'm missing you now, I'm wanting your love, and you're giving it out. I'm lonely tonite."  
  
Indigo Girls – Land of Canaan – Strange Fire – www.indigogirls.com

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Up from Canaan  
  
One  
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Beverly Crusher sat in her darkened quarters, silently pondering the surface of the glass tabletop. She ran her fingertips slowly and repetitively over the muted reflection of starlight. Shadow played over her fine features. Her tears had long ago dried – she felt little like crying, little like doing anything. Not that she hadn't cried – she'd cried, shouted, vomited, slept, read, run, danced, worked, gotten drunk, binged, purged, done anything and everything anyone can do to forget reality for a minute or a day. Finally there had been nothing left to do, and nothing she had done had changed the horror of her life.  
  
She could not cry, though she wanted to. There was simply nothing left inside of her to excise. Her soul was bone dry. Where at one time there had been purpose, love, devotion, hope, now there was simply despair. It was a hateful thing to have in her heart. Her Nana had practiced an ancient form of Christianity during Beverly's childhood, and had a small needlepoint over her bed. It was quaint in its old-fashioned frame, a saying that Crusher had reflected on so many times in her life. "Joy cometh in the morning." She snickered hatefully. Never again would morning bring her joy. If only she never saw another sunrise.  
  
She would eternally loathe the morning, for that had been their time. First it had simply been breakfasts, intimate but unremarkable affairs that had helped both of them clear their thoughts and prepare for the day. When they had become lovers they'd continued to enjoy breakfasts, but had often moved them to the bedroom. It was hard enough to wake alone now. But to wake alone and then endure something so offensive as breakfast? Something so bile-inducing as coffee and croissants? The thought of facing the dawn alone for years to come was overwhelming. If she'd still had the tears, Beverly would have started crying anew.  
  
Instead, she rose and walked carefully through the dim cabin. She stripped off her labcoat, remnant of another shift completed in a rote manner with Beverly pretending to do nothing but go through the motions. Yesterday she'd packed up the remains of her belongings, crates of which were now scattered about on the floor. Much had been packed so many months ago when she and Picard had moved into quarters together. He'd sent someone for his possessions earlier this week, leaving all hers stranded on shelves, in drawers and on tabletops. Pathetic had been the only word to describe it. All the pictures of them together had been left, driving his point home. He'd completely cut her out of his existence, their lives and any memory of it.  
  
Well, he had moved on, and so would she eventually, one day at a time, just as she had with Jack. Of course then Wesley had been there with her. He was inspiration, love, salvation, purpose and comfort all in one little bundle of energy. Now she'd have to find all that within herself. She wondered if it was all there somewhere inside. Time would tell. Today, though, on to Caldos and a small practice there. She'd been quite clear with Starfleet. No one had really fought her request for reassignment, not even Nacheyev. In fact, they'd even willingly granted the month of leave she'd requested. She would retain her commission, doing research for them as assigned. Perhaps in a few years she would move off to the Vulcan Institute, or a carefully chosen deep space assignment. But she would not venture anywhere near headquarters, space stations, or major cities in the Federation. If she never saw Jean-Luc Picard again, she would die a happy woman. That was an overstatement – she would not die a happy woman. She could not, in fact, believe the word happy would again accurately describe her – ever.  
  
She stood helplessly in the middle of the living area. Beams of starlight filtered through, falling on her slim form and the small piles of packing crates. She turned in a circle, trying to find some small thing to do. Finding nothing, she simply sank to the floor. She sat on her knees for a moment, still glancing around. Finally she reclined against a crate and stared out of the windows, her mind vacant. She remained there, semi- conscious, into the early morning. She would leave the Enterprise at 0800. Beverly thought about getting up and going to bed – but what good would it do? She would not sleep there or anywhere, so the hard floor and crate were as good a place as any for her sorry ass.  
  
She thought about taking another sedative, but they were starting to affect her during duty hours. She would just wait until she was too exhausted to remain conscious. She closed her eyes and wished for sleep that would not come. Instead, the memories came again, washing over her unbidden. She had tried, and she simply could not stop them. So she helplessly gave in, reliving a past that would always haunt her future.

xxxxx

She ran her long delicate fingers through the short-cropped silver hair at the base of Jean-Luc Picard's neck. He stood over his desk rigidly, doing his best to concentrate on the data padd he held and to ignore the bewitching woman who was currently plying him with her most beguiling ministrations. Damn if she didn't absolutely enjoy seducing this man. His reluctance only fueled her resolve and desire, and she began tenderly kissing his neck, running her other hand firmly over the coarse uniform fabric on his chest.  
  
"Jean-Luc." Her tone was low, teasing, urging him to give in and pay attention to her.  
  
"Beverly." His response was stern, but the word caught in his throat as he forced it out of his mouth.  
  
She knew this was her battle to win, and she intensified her efforts. Her mouth traveled up his neck and to his jaw, never leaving his skin, which was rough with stubble grown in from the day. She leaned the weight of her body against him until he finally fell back into the desk. Now that she had cornered her prey, she moved in for the kill. She lifted her hand from his chest and indelicately swept aside the arm that held the offending padd, which clattered to the floor.  
  
"Beverly!" His reprimand was again forceful, but he had not used her title – which meant she was still in business. She pushed her whole body against his and threaded her arms under his shoulders, planting her palms on the desktop and pinning herself against his torso. He leaned back enough to cover her hands with his own. His resolve lay crumbled on the ready room floor as she reached up and moved her hands up his back under his tunic, then drew her nails slowly down. "Beverly." This time there was no authority in his tone, only pleading. Whether it was for reprieve or continuance he did not know nor care. For now she was kissing him fully, her mouth moving against his, hot and demanding.  
  
Beverly Crusher's heart beat wildly as she celebrated her victory. She and Jean-Luc had been involved for less than a month, and not once during that time had they been able to make love. She was practically dying with anticipation. To add insult to injury, Picard had spent almost the entire last week cooped up in his ready room compiling endless, and what he assured her were "very critical" reports for Starfleet.  
  
Her Howard libido would have none of it, and she'd entered his sanctuary that afternoon with only one goal in mind. He had not noticed her entry, only glanced at her in irritation as she'd given the orders to secure the doors. Irritation was now the farthest thing from his mind.  
  
He'd known he was in trouble the minute he'd looked up from his padd and seen her walk across the room. He did not have much experience with the subject, but enough to know that hers was the natural walk of a striptease queen. And when she wanted to, the sway of her hips could mesmerize a Vulcan. And this afternoon she had most definitely wanted to.  
  
He was jolted back to the present as she moved abruptly to pull his shirt over his head. At some point she had unzipped the front of her own uniform, and Picard's hands had mindlessly found their own way to the soft and creamy skin of her abdomen.  
  
"Beverly we can't." A brief lucidity had returned to him when their lips had broken contact. He struggled to hold on to it, trying to remember where and who he was.  
  
"Oh, but my dear Captain, we most certainly can. Do you know how long I've wanted to make love to you – right... here.... on.... this... desk?" Jean Luc Picard moaned in pure agony and ecstasy at her revelation, and the things she was doing to his chest with her mouth. He had entertained similar thoughts for years. He only prayed that the engineers who had designed the furniture had, by some miracle, made it strong enough to hold up to what was about to take place. Not that even a structural defect would discourage him now. He half suspected they could crash right into the deck below and he would quickly forget it if she continued with what she was doing to him at that very moment. Juvenile as it was, he could not believe he was about to have a go of it with his Chief Medical Officer in his ready room. There weren't even enough ways to describe how out of protocol it was – or how he couldn't care less.  
  
This is what she had reduced him to, and this is what he had been afraid of all the years leading up to it. He had loved and lusted after Beverly Crusher half his life, and there was no bridling his passion now that she was in his arms.  
  
"Beverly." Jean Luc's breathing was now labored as he choked out the untamed physician's name. "Please."  
  
For her part, Beverly was completely lost in Jean-Luc. She could care less where they were – only that she had been without Picard for days. Perhaps in an hour she would be thinking clearly. But she'd spent the whole morning distracted and unable to work. There was only one solution, and she was not leaving this room until she had what she came for. Enough pre-amble. It was time to get serious.  
  
She strutted to the end of the desk and hopped up to the top. Jean-Luc followed, and began kissing her deeply without delay. The pair were prepared to begin in earnest when Crusher's communicator beeped. Jean-Luc pulled away, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back. He hesitated until she reached up and stripped the comm. off, tossing it across the room. "I'm indisposed."  
  
A few seconds later her badge chirped again. "Sickbay to Doctor Crusher, you're needed immediately. Lieutenant Anderson has gone into labor and is having severe complications." Allyssa Powell's voice invaded the ready room.  
  
"I'll show you severe complications," muttered the enraged doctor. She spoke toward the couch, where the metal trinket had landed. "I'll be there shortly. Crusher out." Her tone was angry and abrupt. Powell recognized it immediately and did not respond, knowing her boss would not appreciate anything she might add.  
  
Beverly looked at Picard with unbridled lust in her eyes. His own gaze was clouded. "Duty calls, Doctor." He cleared his throat in an attempt to control his breathing.  
  
Crusher leaned into him as he backed away from the table, clearing room for her to stand. She kept moving forward as he did so, backing him into the wall near the fish tank. She did not move, did not speak, simply held her body against his and locked gazes. Picard felt certain the top of his head was going to explode.  
  
"As soon as that baby is delivered, I'm coming for you, Picard." She placed her index finger at the hollow of his throat and traced a line down his chest with the tip of her nail.  
  
He did not move until she had departed the room, hips swaying and lab coat slung over her shoulder. He remained leaning against the wall for another few minutes, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control and devise a plan for how in the world he was going to spend the next 12, 24, 36, or however many damn hours it would take to coax the blasted child from the womb. He was not hopeful there was anything on the ship or in the universe that could take his mind off how insanely in love he was with the woman who just walked out the door.

xxxxx

Beverly was unsure where the last few hours had gone, but she was startled back to the present by her door chime. She shook her head and stood wearily. "Yes." It was not an invitation or a denial – just an acknowledgement of presence.  
  
"Beverly. The Hermes is here. Are you ready to go?" Will Riker stood at the door, concern written all over his face. It was not hard to read. Even if he didn't have the worst poker face on the ship, she would have spotted it anyway. It was the same expression she'd seen on the faces of everyone who'd spoken to her in the last month. It was becoming loathsome. Of all the things she hated about this situation, pity rated high on the list.  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be Will." Without explanation she walked into her darkened bedroom. Will resisted the temptation to peer around the corner. In a moment, she returned with a standard issue duffel slung over her shoulder.  
  
"I've arranged for the rest to be shipped to Caldos on a private cargo. It's supposed to meet you at Starbase 56 when you arrive next week. Mind sitting on it until then?" Beverly waved a weary hand at it and turned to walk out before Will had even responded.  
  
"It's fine Beverly. I'll make sure it's taken care of." Will trotted to catch up with the indifferent physician. "Beverly." He caught her shoulder. "We'll miss you. I'll miss you." His light blue eyes were focused on her own. They held a silent plea for her forgiveness, and a cry for her to open up to him.  
  
Crusher knew the sense of guilt the rest of the senior staff felt. She didn't actually blame any of them for what happened, or for staying on the ship, but their emotions were understandable. Picard had put them all in an awkward spot. Will Riker was like a brother to Beverly Crusher, and he'd stood by helplessly watching as the man he considered a second father had callously ripped her still beating heart from her chest. Guilt, anger, and shock – they all accurately described his feelings, and those of the rest of the staff. Worf himself had grudgingly admitted that the Captain's actions had been, "without honor."  
  
The medical crew had done little to hide their outrage at the situation. Alyssa Powell was not the only one who'd requested a transfer. It was beneath Selar to be angry, but Vulcans were quite capable of showing contempt. Doctor Chaderjian had also put in a transfer slip, and Ensign Stewart. They'd all wanted to go with Beverly, but assisting her on Caldos was the equivalent of career suicide – and she cared for each of them too much to allow it. Still, Alyssa had maneuvered her way to a nearby posting, and her husband would follow next year. Beverly couldn't say she wasn't flattered by the woman's loyalty. It seemed something that had recently run in short supply around the shining jewel of the Federation fleet.  
  
"Beverly." Will's hand was still warm on her shoulder. She'd drifted off.  
  
"Oh. Yes Will?" She looked at him, her eyes distracted and focused somewhere on the bulkhead above his right ear.  
  
"I was saying how I can't bear the thought of you leaving like this." He'd squared up to her, resting both hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to focus on him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her meet and hold anyone's eyes. It froze his heart to see this once indomitably proud woman reduced to her current raw state. It hurt too much for her to make even such a brief connection with another living being. It was no way to live.  
  
"Would you ask me to stay, Will?" Her question was quiet, and its simple logic undeniable.  
  
"No. No, I understand why you're leaving. I mean, I think I'd do the same. But I'm just trying to tell you...." He could think of nothing adequate to say. He ran a hand roughly through his thick beard. She did not respond, only gave him a disaffected gaze.  
  
He pulled her abruptly into his arms. Whether he was trying to comfort her or himself was impossible to say. "I'm sorry Beverly."  
  
She stood stiffly and allowed him to hold her momentarily before pulling back and readjusting the bag she held. "We're all sorry Will. It doesn't change anything." She turned and continued to the lift. It were as if he'd never even spoken.  
  
Her interactions with other friends that had been by her cabin to wish her well, to say goodbye, had been similar. All had found her in darkened quarters, and all had left with the sense that they hadn't really spoken with Beverly Crusher. It was the emotional equivalent of talking to a holodeck character. You went through the motions, but it wasn't real – there was no human connection.  
  
Deanna had said she was still in shock. That eventually Beverly would come back to them – but warned that the process would be long, perhaps years. They would have to be patient with their friend, and persistent. She would try to isolate herself, and no matter how angry she became, they could not let her. Each of the senior staff had scheduled a week of leave for the following months, their destinations conveniently taking them near Caldos. Alyssa had promised to journey there monthly and report. It was half vigil and half covert surveillance.  
  
Beverly knew of all this and had simply disregarded it. Frankly, she didn't care. Alone every minute or surrounded by hundreds, the ache did not subside. She little thought a change of scenery would change her feelings. But it made them all feel better, and she supposed it was fine if that's what they needed.  
  
The Doctor and the brawny, brooding first officer arrived at transport three. Oddly, Guinan was there to meet them.  
  
Crusher gave her a prim smile of acknowledgement before breezing by and stepping up to the transport padd.  
  
"Commander Riker," Guinan favored them with a steady glance. "Could I have a minute with Beverly?"  
  
Will looked to Crusher, who shrugged. She wasn't in a hurry. She'd be away from this hellhole and its Captain soon enough. Will nodded at the duty tech, who punched a couple buttons on the panel and walked out behind Riker.  
  
The two women regarded each other. Beverly wore an expression of indifference, and Guinan one of insistent and gentle curiosity.  
  
"You're leaving?" It was not a statement.  
  
Beverly sighed. She did not have the patience for Guinan's obtuse manner of questioning. "Yes."  
  
"Can I ask why?" As always the dark woman was calm, her tone even and neutral.  
  
To Beverly it seemed cruel. "I little think I need to explain myself." Her eyes sparked. Emotionally she was drained, and it would take a lot to fire her temper, but this was intolerable.  
  
"I thought we'd already had a talk about giving up." Guinan smiled. Beverly had always been a fighter – sometimes she just needed some encouragement. Like when Doctor Reyga, the Ferengi scientist had been murdered. It hadn't taken much coaxing – the redhead had a mind of her own and a lot of courage.  
  
Beverly clasped her hands at her stomach and wrung them loosely. She'd stopped crying, but that cathartic release had been replaced with a delicate balance of emotion. Crusher was fragile, and she was hoping to make it to the Hermes still coherent enough to settle into her quarters before collapsing into a ball of raw nerves and grief.  
  
"I'm not giving up, Guinan. I'm leaving a situation that has become absurd in its level of misery. Now, if you'll please excuse me." Crusher tried her best to indicate her half of the conversation was over.  
  
Guinan smiled and walked toward the platform. She stepped up next to Beverly and took her hand. "I'm not blaming you, Beverly. I'm just asking you not to give up on him."  
  
Crusher laughed in her face. "You're not blaming me." She laughed again and shook her head. "Don't give up.....on him......" She shook her head more violently. "Dammit," she hadn't made it. Her resolve broke and tears began coursing down her face. "How can you even..." She looked up at Guinan, a pleading desperation in her eyes. "Why did you come here? How can you say that to me?" Her tears continued, but she stood upright and squared her shoulders. "Please leave. Now." She spoke slowly and hissed each word.  
  
Guinan's eyes never left Beverly's. She took the Doctor's hand in both of hers and pressed a small object into her palm. "You're not ready now. But you can make this right, Beverly. Let me know when it's time." With that the bartender retreated in a swirl of purple robes and left Beverly standing, stupidly staring at her clenched fist. What the hell was that about?  
  
Riker and the tech returned. "Get me out of here." Beverly choked back her sobs and disappeared in a sea of blue particles.  
  
Will stood a moment longer, his jaw clenching, before turning and stalking out the door. 


	2. Up from Canaan 2

  
  
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Up from Canaan  
  
Two  
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Golden rays of sun caressed the Caldos landscape. It lit the amber fields and sparkled off the dancing whitecaps of the sea. A tender breeze ushered itself by, lifting and teasing the russet and silver strands of hair from Beverly Crusher's slender neck. Along with it floated one or two poplar leaves that had gained early color. Crusher sat back on her knees, breaking from the monotony of weeding her small garden plot. The squash and pumpkins had begun to bloom in the late summer sun, and would soon begin to bear fruit. Winter would be cold and wet – but Crusher welcomed the desolation and isolation it would bring to the landscape and her life.  
  
The memories had not left her, and still reeled through her mind erratically, always taking her by surprise in their intense reality. But the warm sun and cool air dulled the edges of her pain, as did the colonists who were consistent in their kindness. They did not know why she had returned to take her grandmother's place, but they welcomed her. Early on they had sensed her heartache, her detachment from them. Brunch, supper, tea invitations had all gone unanswered or rejected. The community had not taken it poorly, recognizing that the lone woman in the small cottage on the hill had not ever intended to become part of them, but to leave behind something else.  
  
As she stared off over the azure sea, the past washed over her again. As always her attempts to stop it were futile, and she surrendered. Already lost in thought she rose and made her way to a faded-out deck chair that rested nearby. She elegantly sank down on the weathered teak and closed her eyes. 

xxxxx  
  
"You know, you'll think much better on a full stomach." Jean-Luc Picard stood leaning on the door jam of Beverly's office, a devilish grin on his face.  
  
"Is that an invitation?" She looked up, eyebrow arched suggestively. Crusher and Picard had already made plans to dine together that evening, and both were edgy with anticipation – tonite was the nite. They had coordinated their schedules and fiercely defended the time throughout the week.  
  
"Absolutely." He stood upright as she came around the desk to greet him. She extended her hand and he took it. Together they strolled out of the office and toward the lift.  
  
"How was your shift?" Crusher focused on small talk, trying to keep her mind off of the evening ahead.  
  
"Long. I was mysteriously distracted the whole time. At one point Ensign Maggiore waited for five minutes for me to give the order to engage our course." He met her clear blue eyes and his own lit in amusement and joy as he chuckled at the thought. They paused and entered the lift.  
  
"Alyssa gave up on me five minutes after I started my shift. She sent me into my office to finish the quarterly crew evaluations." Beverly could not stop the grin from spreading across her face as she moved closer to Picard and began to run her hand down his chest.  
  
"Beverly, if you're not careful we won't even make it to dinner." Picard removed her hand and tugged on his uniform tensely. Maintaining his control was growing increasingly difficult.  
  
"Would that be so bad?" Crusher stood primly, her hands behind her back. But she was still standing uncomfortably close to Picard.  
  
"I believe they have already corked the wine Café Laroue." Picard's tone was artificially reserved.  
  
"Far be it from me to stand in between Jean-Luc Picard and a bottle of wine." Beverly abruptly changed her posture and moved across the lift.  
  
Now it was Picard's turn to deal. "What if I promise that I will only make you wait through one bottle?" He stepped close to her and wrapped his arm around her trim waist as he leaned in to whisper his supplication.  
  
Beverly maintained her arch posture and stared ahead. "I suppose that would be acceptable."  
  
The turned to each other and smiled as the lift came to a stop. Picard took Crusher's hand firmly and they strolled to the holodeck.  
  
They had first made love there. Jean-Luc had wanted to return to his quarters, but Beverly had refused the delay. "The doors are secured, Jean- Luc. I'm not taking any chances. We've waited three months – hell, we've waited 25 years. I'm not waiting another second." Those had been the last words from either of them for hours. They'd spoken, but only with their eyes, mouths, and hands.  
  
It had been glorious. In those first moments, Beverly Crusher's world had stopped – simply stopped moving forward. Time did not start again for her until she'd awoken much later, near dawn, and risen on one elbow to watch the snow cascade silently through the trees over the rise and fall of the landscape of Jean-Luc's chest. They'd started with dinner in a mountain chalet, modeled after ancient Swiss hotels of 19th century Earth. The romance of the setting had swept them both away before the second course, and they had hastily retreated to a room with a bottle of wine and desert.  
  
They did not finish the wine nor the crepes. Instead they made love for hours, breaking intermittently to sleep. Upon waking, Jean-Luc would gaze at her intently for what seemed to be stretches of forever, until lust overcame them again. Their love had been like the breaking of a dam. For so many years they had watched fissures appear in the architecture of their mutual resolve. Slowly, slowly the structure had weakened, and more and more desire ebbed through. Finally, the retaining wall had burst, and a tidal wave of emotion and passion had flooded through. The sheer force of it was powerful, undeniable, and would forever alter the course of their lives.  
  
Beverly and Jean-Luc understood all that within minutes after they had first been together. There would be no denying their future, their roles as lovers and soul mates. He had not asked her to marry him then, but the question, when it came a few months later, seemed as an afterthought. She had not answered him, only taken him in her arms and held him fiercely until both were overwhelmed by their need to be with the other.

xxxxx  
  
Beverly choked on her own sobs as she came gasping back to reality. The sun was setting over the western sky, an angry crimson ball of fire spreading blood across the water. The air held a chill, and she shivered as she fell back into the chair, her head lolling weakly on her neck. She felt as flimsy as a rag doll, her body drained of strength by the emotional and spiritual holocaust of her life. It was like this each time she came out of one of her unbidden and silent reveries. Some were worse than others. The first night they'd given in to their feelings, or the first time they'd made love. And the worst – the reminiscence that invariably drove her to the vial of sedatives – the violation in the church. And it had been a violation. She shuddered at the thought and quickly changed subjects in her head.  
  
It was approaching nightfall. She was not hungry, but she should eat something, or at the very least give herself a nutrition supplement. It would not do to have Deanna show up at her doorstep and insist on force- feeding her for a week. Solids rarely stayed down well for Beverly anymore, and she'd just end up running to the bathroom after meals. Despite her efforts to maintain her weight, Crusher had lost 15 pounds, and could admit to herself she was an eerie sight. She would start eating again, really eating, soon. She'd promised herself that a month ago, but was no closer to fulfilling it.  
  
"Give it time, Beverly." She coached herself through the days, always staying positive. She sometimes wallowed in her own discouraging, vindictive thoughts, but she always came out the other side. She saw her recovery as a marathon, or a struggle with illness. It would take a long, long time to reach her goal, and by the time she did she may be a whole different person. And that was fine with her – for whoever Beverly Crusher had been almost a year ago was dead, her soul left behind at the altar of that church where Jean-Luc had crucified it.

xxxxx  
  
"I wanted to be the one to tell you, Beverly." Deanna reached over the table and touched her friend's arm tentatively, before firmly grasping her forearm and leaning forward to try to meet the woman's glassy stare. "Beverly?"  
  
Crusher turned her head slowly, speaking softly and tonelessly as she responded. "Thank you." Deanna was troubled by the vacancy in Beverly's gaze and mind. She had been ready to accept a tidal wave of emotions at the news she heralded. The Captain had always wanted a child – and the raven- haired empath knew that Beverly had hoped to have one with him when they married. Deanna had expected sorrow, even anger at the fact he was to have one now. But somehow Crusher seemed unfazed by the news.  
  
In truth, Beverly had in essence stopped interacting on an emotional level with anyone. She lived a cyclical existence of routine. She was going through the motions of life, hoping that by continuing to do so she would eventually feel again – feel anything except vacuous pain. The fact that Picard would now have a child by his "new" wife was devastating. But Beverly had reached maximum saturation. The knife in her heart was twisted as deep as it could go. The damage was done, and anything else was simply collateral. She had expected this news eventually. She knew what Jean-Luc wanted, needed from life. She had, in fact, been preparing herself for this conversation.  
  
What Deanna did not know, what nobody knew, was that Beverly had indeed been pregnant by Picard at one time. They had been hoping to have a child months before their marriage, and she had become fertile much more quickly than expected after stopping her contraceptive treatment. She conceived a month before the wedding. They were overjoyed, and planned to announce the happy news at their reception.  
  
But after he had finished publicly humiliating her at the ceremony, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him roughly, and hissed angrily, "And get rid of that bastard child." She was speechless. The tears continued to stream down her face as she stared at him. There was only one question in her mind – how? How could this man, whom she had come to love so wholly, so completely, have become such an absolute stranger?  
  
She terminated the pregnancy. She still wrestled with the decision a year later. But what would she have told her daughter about her father – the father that did not want her, did not want her mother. Perhaps the child would have helped her heal – or perhaps the girl would have grown up with two absent parents, Picard physically and Beverly emotionally. She could not do that, and could not face seeing the child grow to look like, sound like, act like her father. It was the hardest decision of her life, but one that she accepted. Now, there would be another child for Picard – but not for her. Not ever for her.  
  
Crusher brought herself back to the moment and offered a placation to Deanna. She knew Deanna was surprised at the emotions Beverly failed to produce. "Thank you for coming. It's good to see you." She smiled at Deanna, but it did not touch her eyes.  
  
Deanna sat back in her chair. She had little hope of reaching Beverly. She felt the distance between them each time she visited. It was not decreasing. Instead, Beverly had become more and more emotionally isolated from her friends and her life. It was deeply troubling to the counselor. What Beverly needed desperately was to connect with someone – anyone. Troi sighed. "Beverly, I'm worried about you. We're all worried about you."  
  
"I know." Beverly stood and walked over to the stove to put on a pot of water. She leaned against the counter, loosely wringing her hands as she waited for the water to heat. "I'm not going to tell you I'm fine Deanna. We both know it's a lie." She turned, looked up and opened the cupboard above the sink, taking down two glasses. "I'm not getting better. It's been a year and I'm no better. I can't sleep. I can't focus on my research. The memories are still with me – so vivid. God Deanna – the memories." Beverly turned again and walked back to the stove. She'd lost before, but this was different time was not healing – it was making things worse.  
  
The water roiled in the pot and she turned off the range. She pulled a canister from the back of the counter out and popped it open, reaching in to take two tea bags and place them carefully in the mugs. "I don't know which are worse – the good ones are the bad ones. It all hurts the same, leaves me aching for it to just stop." She returned to the table, cups steaming. She placed the hot tea in front of Deanna and curled into her own chair. She tucked her right leg up under her left and clutched her own tea with both hands, grasping it to her chest as though the ambient heat would heal her battered heart. She stared out the window, spent.  
  
"Will has put in for a transfer." Troi confessed it quietly. She knew Beverly would only feel guilt over the change, feel that she had somehow played a part in the unraveling of her friend's lives. In truth, Riker could no longer stand to serve with Picard. The Captain had become increasingly cavalier with his commission and out of touch with his staff. The general sentiment onboard was that Picard was tired of his command, and vying for a spot in the admiralty. Morale on the ship was not high. After what had happened with Beverly, it had been insult to injury, and more than Will could stand.  
  
"And you?" Beverly's eyes did not stray from the window as she posed the question.  
  
"I am concerned about the Captain. But if Will is transferred, I don't know how much longer I'll stay on the Enterprise." It was Deanna's turn to speak distractedly as she sipped her tea. Things had not been right since Picard's dramatic revelation on his ignominious wedding day. Nothing had been in harmony for any of them. The constant dissonance had worn on Deanna, and she was rapidly tiring of it.  
  
Crusher felt Deanna's unease and reached to take her hand as it lay on the table. "I'm sure you'll do whatever's best." She punctuated it with another smile she could not pretend was genuine.  
  
"Right." Deanna stood, needing to move and clear her mind. "Now. Tell me more about these rhodedendrons you're cultivating...."

xxxxx  
  
Beverly woke with a start, sobbing. She sat bolt upright in the bed, hoping the change in position would help chase away the vivid recollection of the dream. Deanna's visit had been last month, and the thought of Picard and his child dogged Crusher's waking and sleeping thoughts.  
  
She threw off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering with the lamp. The dual moons poured light through the curtains and illuminated her bedroom in a silver pink glow. Most on the planet thought the moonlight here beautiful. It happened only twice a year that both shone full at the same time, and it was always celebrated with an evening festival. Beverly had attended out of need to maintain some connection with the colonists. She knew they talked about her, knew they were wary of her hesitancy to establish a relationship with them. Tonite's celebration had involved a special play written and performed by the small kindergarten class. Beverly had left half way though, but not before the tiny faces and voices burned themselves into her unconscious.  
  
She closed her eyes and turned on the faucet, leaning over as she splashed cold water on her face. She would not sleep the rest of the night – three hours would have to do. She reached for a towel as water dripped down onto her nightshirt and thought about what she would do for another four or five hours until daylight. She could take a sedative, but she'd already taken three this week. She was worried she was becoming psychologically addicted to them.  
  
She exhaled loudly. "Just get it together, Crusher." A small voice inside her head pestered her lately. She was beginning to wonder if she could do just that – if she could in fact ever break out of this purgatory. "A little more time."  
  
She left the bathroom and stood at the foot of her bed. What would she do tonite? She tapped her foot. "Ah." She crossed over into the hall and headed toward the attic stairs. There was a project she had started on the Enterprise, one that could only be finished when integrated with the results of a study that had not been complete at the time – a study that had arrived in her Starfleet medical journal that morning.  
  
She clicked on the light in the attic and looked for the trunk she'd brought with her from the ship. She found it easily enough and popped it open. She rummaged through a few old uniforms and a labcoat before she found the set of padds she was looking for. As she began to close the lid, a shaft of moonlight caught a small silver object and winked off of it brightly.  
  
It was the box Guinan had given her. Beverly could not say why she had not thrown it out. She'd wanted to sock the woman after their conversation – she had been more insensitive than Beverly could believe. But she had kept the box, and now she picked it up. She hadn't had any desire to open it at the time, and now she was curious.  
  
She turned it over and over in her delicate hands. It was smooth, and cool to the touch. There didn't appear to be any way to open it, nor any seams nor hinges. Curious. "You can make this right." The enigmatic woman's words echoed in her mind. Again the question – how? How in the world could she make things right? What was Guinan even thinking? With that, Beverly tossed the box back in and closed the trunk.  
  
It would be another long night. Beverly retreated down the stairs and prepared to wait out the moons.

xxxxx  
  
Winter covered the world, cold and wet. Dampness was in the house, in Beverly's soul. Nothing was right. Desperation was a quiet and persistent presence in the red headed physician's life. There was more white in her hair now than there should be. At fifty, Crusher was in the prime of her life. But her spirit felt old and heavy. It was not like her to be so cowed by what had happened to her. But no matter what she did, she could not shake this.  
  
Crusher stood at the sink, staring out over the bleak landscape. Leaves on the willowy poplars around the house were long gone, replaced with a thin dusting of snow from a storm last week. It was still and quiet outside and inside. The residents of the village had holed up in their homes with their families. Lazy tufts of smoke drifted up and blended with the grey sky before fading out into the stratosphere. A cold front had moved in after the snow had fallen, and in the night she would lay awake, listening as branches snapped under the weight of accumulated ice.  
  
"Dammit. This isn't working!" Crusher abruptly slammed her hand down on the counter, rattling the breakfast dishes. She was angry, but there was no release in it. She would move through each of the cycles of her grief, only to begin them again.  
  
"It's time for that son of a bitch to face up to this." Hiding was no good. She'd retreated to Caldos to lick her wounds, but it had been a bitter balm, leaving them as raw as ever. Crusher moved through the house quickly, banging her hip on the kitchen table as she passed. "Oww." She continued on to her desk and anxiously punched up the communications link, running her slender hands through her hair as she waited.  
  
Moments later Will Riker's expectant face appeared on the screen. This was the first time Beverly had contacted any of them – he hoped it was a good sign. After hearing what the Doctor proposed, however, the intrepid Commander found himself wishing Deanna had answered the hail.  
  
"The Enterprise will be in range of Starbase 55 in the next 10 days. Everyone would love to see you Beverly, but are you sure you want to come to us?" Riker leaned forward, pulling a hand through his beard. In the past couple of years it had become streaked with silver. It had grown in a manner befitting the dashing first officer, forming two stripes at the corners of his mouth. On the one hand, it was good to see a glimmer of the old Beverly. On the other, the Captain had proven himself capable of heights of insensitivity Riker could not believe were possible. Was Beverly really ready to handle what she was getting herself into?  
  
Beverly stood and began to pace. "Don't worry about me Commander. I can handle it. I've spent the past year in hell. Whatever that bastard has to say, I'm ready to hear it." She turned and faced the monitor, giving him a wry smile. "I don't know what else to do, Will." She sank back down into the old desk chair.  
  
Riker sat up and pulled at his uniform. "I'll tell the Captain I'm expecting an old friend. You don't have to see him until you're ready." He smiled warmly. "It will be good to see you here again."  
  
"I'd say I was looking forward to it, but I don't think that's exactly accurate." Crusher adopted a sardonic grin. "Give my best to Deanna. I'll see you in six days." She smiled again and clicked the link off. She slowly closed the monitor. Six days. She'd lied a little bit to Riker – she wasn't sure if she were ready at all. But there was only one way to find out.

xxxxx  
  
Beverly sank into the cushions of the small transport shuttle. She'd spent the week doing her best to prepare herself emotionally for the task at hand. She'd packed and unpacked three times. Even as she was walking to the transport station she had been convinced she should just turn around and go back. But that quiet voice that had once been desperation now urged her forward.  
  
It was a six hour ride to the Starbase, and another four from there to the Enterprise. She'd packed several padds of research to keep her occupied along the way, but none of them were holding her attention. She was now in the second leg of the journey, and her stomach began to flip flop as she thought of what waited for her when she reached her destination. At the Starbase she had dug out the small box from Guinan. She wasn't sure why she brought it along, but she now held it tight. As long as she'd clutched it, it stayed cool.  
  
She had not slept more than six hours in the last two days, and fatigue began to wash over her along with boredom. The combination lulled her into a fitful sleep.

xxxxx  
  
"You're glowing." Deanna tucked an errant strand of fire-red hair behind one of Beverly's delicate ears.  
  
"I know. Does it show?" Beverly was as close to giddy as she'd ever felt.  
  
"It shows, and it's beautiful." Deanna could not stop herself from embracing her friend. "I'm so happy for you Beverly."  
  
Crusher moved to wipe away the tears that were already forming in her eyes. "I think I'm going to spend most of the day crying." The two women smiled at each other and laughed.  
  
He stood at the top of the aisle, dashing in his dress uniform. He seemed uncomfortable, anxious. Beverly smiled to herself. He was so put out by public events – and being the center of it was enough to drive him to distraction.  
  
She felt lightheaded as she walked down the aisle, Will at her side. So many of their friends had come, some who had known them since either she or Jean-Luc were at the academy. Most had responded to the invite with a variation of, "It's about time." They had laughed at each communiqué as it arrived.  
  
She came to Jean-Luc's side and met his eyes. Her brow darkened as she did, not finding the joy she had expected to see reflected there. Knowing him as she did, she could anticipate his reaction to almost any situation. As nervous as he may have been, his response to this day would never be solemn. His gaze was forboding.  
  
"Jean-Luc?" She moved to take his hand. He pulled back with a start.  
  
Panic sounded in Crusher's head. Her heart beat in her throat and her stomach filled with ice water. Jean-Luc had changed his mind. Those fleeting insecurities that had visited her in the smallest hours of the morning came rushing forward, screaming in her head. The music, the lights, the world all dimmed as Jean-Luc Picard became the focus of her terror.  
  
"Jean-Luc? What's going on?" He had not spoken, but she did not need him to – it was all wrong. She had envisioned this moment for months, ever since he had asked her to marry him. She would arrive at the altar, and he would take her hand, brush her cheek with a kiss, and whisper as he so often did, "my love." She would tremble and meet his gaze, her own cerulean eyes overflowing with contentment and wonder.  
  
None of this was transpiring. His eyes were distant, hard, and resolved. Beverly's conscious mind surfaced long enough to notice that the small parish had fallen silent, the air now still and heavy. Admiral Brand stood before them, waiting for a sign from Picard or Crusher.  
  
Jacqueline cleared her throat. "Captain, are you ready?"  
  
He turned first to her, then to the assembly. "I am ready indeed, Admiral." He clasped his hands behind him, squared his shoulders, and began to pace. "Ladies and gentlemen. I thank you all for coming to this, what should be the most joyous occasion of one's life. And indeed it shall be, for two people here today. His gaze went not to Beverly, but to the pew directly in front of him. Today, Anna Young and I will be wed." He paused in his oratory.  
  
Crusher stood paralyzed. She and everyone else in attendance was stunned into inaction. A veritable who's who of Starfleet's finest caught totally flat-footed. It was all wrong. Everything in her cried out against what was happening. Jean-Luc was wrong. His posture, his tone – he was wrong. Couldn't anyone else see? She turned and handed her bouquet to Deanna, who wore a troubled expression of her own. She walked over to where the Captain had paused and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jean-Luc?"  
  
"For Christ's sake woman, can you think of nothing else to say?" He practically shouted as he shrugged off her touch. The echoes of his deep baritone thundered through the church.  
  
"I apparently have not yet made myself clear. Let me be blunt." He walked over to the pew, and extended his hand to a woman seated in between two Captains Beverly faintly recognized, old friends of Picard's. "Anna, please." He took her by the hand and pulled her up. She stood and surveyed the congregation coolly, her eyes seeming to regret the break in contact with Picard's as she favored them all with her stare. She was as tall as Picard, olive skinned and flaxen haired. Her eyes were golden brown, the color of late summer wheat, only a few shades lighter than the wavy mane that fell to her waist. She was almost ageless, and radiated seduction and confidence.  
  
"There will be a ceremony today, my friends, but not the one you anticipated." Picard drew Anna to his side, and they walked hand in hand to the altar.  
  
To Beverly, time had ceased to exist. Her world had narrowed to one where little occurred outside of her own thoughts. She saw, or rather registered, what was happening around her. She absorbed the essential meaning of it all without hearing any of the words. At some point Deanna and Will had stepped forward, each with a firm hand on either of her shoulders. Reality had collapsed in upon itself, and Beverly was caught in the world of the bizarre. Surely this was not happening.  
  
She started as Picard stepped toward her. He lowered his voice and spoke in a commanding tone. One that she had previously come to adore – it was the avatar of his authority - but which now seemed as cold as the expanse of space. "Commander, Counselor, just a moment with the Doctor if you will." His inflection and body language made it clear it was not a request. Reluctantly, Deanna stepped back. After a moment Will followed her.  
  
Picard leaned toward Crusher and grabbed her forearm. "Perhaps you have not already gathered my meaning Doctor. Leave. Now." She met his steely hazel gaze, her face a mask of confusion and horror. He hissed at her, sotto voce. "Leave. And get rid of that bastard child."  
  
Before she knew what had happened, her hand flew up and struck him, smacking him squarely across the jaw. "There's only one bastard in this church, Jean-Luc Picard." She fled the altar and flew down the aisle. Deanna followed immediately after.  
  
Will stayed behind and came toe to toe with the Captain, his voice bellowing loud enough to be heard by all. "What the hell is this all about?"  
  
Beverly was out the door before she could hear a response, gasping at the crisp early spring air that suddenly surrounded her. She blinked back an ocean of tears as the sun shone thinly and brightly on the bucolic pastures of LeBarre.  
  
"Take me back to the Enterprise, Deanna." Beverly was on her knees now. Any strength had left her as she had heard Jean-Luc's pronouncement, the unconscionable and unimaginable rebuff from a man she had been prepared to swear as her life long partner, lover, confidante, and husband. She had struck him, and through the blow lost everything that made her whole and propelled her forward. She was completely without ballast, without direction.  
  
"Deanna, please!" Crusher sobbed.  
  
Troi knelt down to embrace her shoulders. The empath herself was completely nonplussed. She reached into a fold of her dress and tapped her communicator. Beverly did not hear what she said, but moments later was blissfully surrounded by blue oblivion.

xxxxx  
  
The transport shuttle landed with a gentle thud. Beverly slammed back into consciousness, her face wet with tears she had unknowingly shed. Through the forward portals she made out the pastel grey markings of the Enterprise shuttle bay.  
  
Dressed in civilian clothes, she nodded at the new arrivals that had accompanied her on the trip, colonists, scientists and crewmen on leave, all about to board the mighty flagship of the Federation. Each averted their eyes from the gaunt woman who sat disheveled in the corner, her deep set bright blue eyes the only hint of color emanating from the pale oval of her face. Crusher had breathed a sigh of relief that no one on that particular transport had worked with her on the Enterprise. She'd covered her hair – as much white as it had taken on, it was still unmistakably red. Should any rumors begin about the strange woman meeting Deanna Troi, she did not want any of them to lead to speculation that the prodigal Doctor had returned.  
  
She disembarked and her tears began anew as she embraced the Counselor. Deanna steeled her own emotions against the waves of sorrow, hope and desolation that came from the frail woman in her arms. The dark woman was caught off-guard by a sudden surge of rage that passed through her mind, and was even more surprised to find it coming not from Beverly, but from herself. The havoc that Picard's whimsy had wrought on her best friend was inexcusable.  
  
Two sets of damp eyes engaged and crinkled with baleful smiles. Deanna took Beverly's hand and her bag. "Let's get you settled."  
  
Beverly Crusher nodded and followed the trim brunette back into the halls of the Enterprise.


	3. Up from Canaan 3

  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Up from Canaan  
  
Three  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
"It's not the best of circumstances, but it's good to see you again, Doc." Geordi LaForge stepped back and released Beverly from his warm embrace. He registered the change in her chromatics upon arrival, but it was not until he'd held he that he fully realized how much she'd changed. "Don't they feed you on that planet of yours?"  
  
Beverly gave a hollow laugh. "It just doesn't hold a candle to the replicators around here, Geordi. Maybe you should come have a look." She squeezed his arm affectionately. It was good to be back amongst her friends. The dull ache in her heart subsided a bit, just enough so that it didn't hurt to breathe. Still, she felt a little alarmed by the number of people in her small quarters. Her chest was banded, and she kept panic at bay through slow, steady breaths.  
  
As the Chief Engineer arrived they sat down to eat dinner. Will, Deanna, Geordi and Data had all come to see her the evening after she'd arrived on the ship. Worf had been absent nearly a month, spending time on the Klingon homeworld with Alexander. They had all wanted to come by sooner, but she'd warded them off with the specter of a headache and travel fatigue – it was a plausible excuse. Honestly she had simply been too overwhelmed by the abrupt change in scenery and the encroaching sense of alarm it triggered in her mind.  
  
Today had been better, though echoes of her past assailed her that morning as she rose and went about her routine. She'd even been briefly confused when she'd reached into the closet for her uniform and found only slacks, skirts, and sweaters.  
  
"I don't know if Worf's planning on coming back. Last we talked, he mentioned getting a transfer." Geordi's brow furrowed and his visor dipped momentarily.  
  
Beverly pulled herself back to the moment and turned toward him. "Why would he want to transfer?" She could not imagine the burly Klingon in a post that made him happier – except perhaps if Starfleet began a Cardassian war games project.  
  
"He says he wants to be able to spend more time with Alexander." Geordi offered it gamely, but clearly there was more to the story.  
  
Geordi looked down and then to Riker. The room seemed a little smaller as a new tension filled the air.  
  
"Things on the ship have changed since...." Will tapered off and looked to Deanna, then back at Geordi and Data, stalling. "Since your departure." He settled on the less provocative description of the timeline.  
  
Beverly moved her lips as though to speak, then fell silent. It was not a placation – she read the truth in each of their faces. Even Data seemed affected and reflective of the somber mood. "Changed?" She gave Will a querelous look.  
  
"Worf took a leave of absence shortly after an incident with an away team on Zendi VI. It was an exploratory mission of an uninhabited M class planet. Worf and a small party beamed down, only to find rather hostile but non-humanoid inhabitants. Worf felt strongly that the danger to the crew was too great to continue sending people down." Riker paused in his story to have a long sip of ale. "The Captain disagreed. He told him that" Riker's attitude suddenly changed, and he seemed belligerent. "That we'd never learn anything if we simply kept to the ship at the first sign of a challenge."  
  
Beverly's face opened into an expression of wonder. No one in Starfleet, least of all Worf, would take well to that kind of insinuation from a superior officer. Riker nodded at her, acknowledging her reaction. "So we sent down another team. A couple ensigns from exobotany, more security, and staff from a few other departments." Riker paused again, but no one seemed eager to continue the story for him, so he plunged ahead. "Worf was right. The animals on the planet turned out to be more dangerous that we could handle. In the end, we lost five crewmembers." The last sentence hung in the air as the stars winked coldly and silently outside.  
  
"Worf left the ship the next time we put into Starbase." Geordi chimed in quietly, shaking his head.  
  
Beverly was incredulous. Five crewmen? Picard would be horrified. 'Would have been horrified,' she thought. She added this to the collection of stories about the Captain's cold hearted and cavalier attitude she'd collected in the past year. Some came from the Enterprise, some from her friends back at Headquarters. None were good. They were tales of a man she hardly recognized. A man callous toward his responsibilities and indifferent to the consequences of his actions. There had even been some speculation of a formal review, a process almost unheard of for an officer of his rank. But incidents like the one on Zendi VI had become too common for Picard – he'd lost more crew in the past year than in the 5 before.  
  
She reeled, suddenly assaulted by a harrowing suspicion. No one had confronted Jean-Luc on his abrupt change in attitude last year. He had cut off all who tried with a curt, "It's none of your business," and made it clear that further inquiries were not welcome. What if there were something wrong with him? She had been too hurt, to stunned to stay behind and get to the bottom of his change of heart – frankly she hadn't cared about the reasons. But was there something more she was missing?  
  
Instantly she was possessed by the need to be alone. She rose from the table and made her apologies, regretfully asking her friends to leave. They seemed to understand. The mood of the evening, somber to begin with, had turned downright melancholy. It was not a gathering to prolong.  
  
Each said good night and gave Beverly a long hug as they departed. Deanna paused before walking out the door. "I think it's good that you're here, Beverly."  
  
Crusher nodded, a tight smile on her lips. She was filled with a clawing sense of urgency, thoughts of herself now driven from her mind. Of course – that was it. Something was going on. She'd felt it in the church, and now she could feel it in her bones – something was quite wrong with Jean-Luc Picard.

xxxxx  
  
"You can make this right." Beverly awoke with a start. But for the first time she could remember, it was not with tears staining her face. Her heart was pounding, but not in anger. She struggled to identify what she was feeling. Her stomach was tight, but she wasn't naseous. In fact, she was actually a bit hungry. She was excited, but not anxious. It was.... anticipation. That was it. She was spoiling for a fight. She'd spent the last year without purpose, without a goal. Maybe the first time in her life she'd not had her sights set on something. She stepped out of bed, and as she did so stood a little bit straighter, taller than she had in a while. Damned if Jean-Luc Picard would get away with this, making a victim of Beverly Crusher. A sour look crossed her face – it was contemptible to think of herself that way, and worse to think that others thought that of her. No more. Retreat had isolated her, weakened her, and she was sick of it. Her thoughts raced as she prepared for the day, flying over the past year and everything she had heard of Jean-Luc since the debacle of their wedding day.  
  
She stopped brushing her hair mid-stroke when, for the first time, she really thought of Anna Young. Instantly she seethed. Her focus for so long had been Picard. She'd wondered fleetingly who his new bride was, where she had come from. Honestly, though, she hadn't given it much thought beyond the surface. Now she brought her full attention to the subject. Just who the hell exactly did this woman think she was? As much as she tried to focus on the woman, though, the less she was able. It were as if Anna simply became dim as she concentrated on her.  
  
Beverly dismissed the thought, and stood abruptly and strode into the main cabin. She stopped just short of activating the doors. In her haste she had not considered where to go, just her need to do something. She stood, unsure of her next move. She was not yet ready to face the Captain – what would she say to him? She was similarly puzzled by Anna – she had a few choice words for both of them, but she had not come all these lightyears just to tell them off, as fun as that might be.  
  
She jumped as the chime to her door rang. "Who is it?" She did her best to give her unsteady voice assurance. She prayed it was not Jean-Luc. She exhaled loudly in relief as the answer came.  
  
"It's Guinan. May I come in?" The bartender's calm voice filled the cabin and her mind.  
  
She walked forward and activated the door, grabbing a startled Guinan by the forearm and pulling her in. "Just the woman I wanted to see."  
  
The serene woman smiled as Crusher turned to face her when the cabin doors shut. The fiery physician narrowed her eyes. "Tell me everything you know."

xxxxx  
  
It took considerable persuasion, but Guinan had eventually been equal to the task of calming the considerably ruffled Doctor Crusher. They now both sat on the couch, hot cocoa in hand and breakfast before them. Beverly had been delighted to find herself enjoying a second muffin and third glass of orange juice. It felt good to really eat again – almost as good as it felt to be genuinely hungry.  
  
She eyed the purple-clad woman suspisciously. "Now that you've plied me with food, spill it. You know something." Beverly set her mug down on the table and tucked a leg underneath her. She made it very clear that she was settled in for a thorough accounting.  
  
Guinan was not to be outdone however, not even by the likes of a determined Beverly Crusher. She opened her hands in a classic gesture to indicate she held nothing back. "I don't know anything. But I feel that something isn't right."  
  
Crusher arched her brow. "I'd say that's hardly accurate. You came to my cabin, remember?"  
  
Guinan smiled. "All I can say is that you can make this right. I don't know how. But I know that you are central to whatever is going on."  
  
Crusher smiled ruefully in victory. "So you admit that there's something happening – that something isn't right?"  
  
Guinan turned for a moment to the stars before responding. "Things are not as they should be, no."  
  
For a moment insecurity welled up in Beverly. It had become a familiar companion, one that would not simply slink away. "But how do you know? How do I know I'm doing the right thing? He certainly doesn't want me in his life – he's made that very clear. And I don't think I even love him anymore. The man I knew is gone."  
  
Guinan studied Beverly's face. The two women had never been close, but there was a familiarity in her black eyes that Crusher could not account for. Guinan seemed to know her. When she finally spoke, her thoughts seemed far away. "I have known Jean-Luc Picard for a very long time. I have a sense of him beyond what you see today, yesterday, or in the future. And the man I see now is not as I have ever known him. And your role in his life is not how I have ever known it."  
  
"Well that certainly clears things up." Beverly didn't know what she had been expecting to hear, but it wasn't this. Once she'd set her course, she was a woman of action. She needed some kind of direction – something to sink her teeth into.  
  
Guinan's mouth moved upward into the semi-permanent grin she so often wore, the one that seemed to say, 'I know more about you than you do.' It could be comforting – but at times it could be incredibly infuriating – this was one of those times.  
  
She seemed to read Crusher's thoughts. "I can't tell you what to do, Beverly."  
  
"Then what the hell can you tell me?" Crusher stood and cried out in frustration. "I'm finally ready to move forward – and I can't figure out where to go!" Beverly stalked into her cabin and appeared a moment later. "What is this?" She thrust the small cube forward, the one Guinan had handed her when she'd fled the ship.  
  
"Ah. Yes." Guinan took the object and turned it over in her hand, studying its smooth surface. "This is just something I picked up along the way. It's been pretty useful from time to time." She held it in her open hand, and the object began to glow faintly as it rested on her palm.  
  
Beverly sat down again, enthralled by the tiny box. She leaned toward it, ever more interested in what seemed to be emanating from within it. She at once felt very peaceful and focused. "What is this?" She spoke in awed wonder, in a tone she had used whenever she was confronted with a particular medical mystery, encountered a new species, or made a breakthrough in her research.  
  
"I'm not really sure where it came from. But it's always served me well. I want you to take it. I think it will help you now." Guinan closed her hand over it in a fist, and suddenly the cool white aura disappeared. Beverly couldn't help but feel a bit sad. The older woman extended her hand to Beverly, who offered her own in receipt. She had expected it to be warm, but still it was cool to the touch.  
  
"What do I do with it?" Crusher looked up expectantly, but her face fell as her eyes met Guinan's. "Right. You don't know." She smiled and shook her head. "I don't know whether I should thank you or curse you."  
  
"You may do both before you leave the ship. But my money's on thanking." Guinan smiled and Beverly laughed. Both women stood. Beverly stooped to clear the dishes, absorbed in her own thoughts.  
  
"I do know that this will be hard. Very hard." Crusher looked back over her shoulder at the edge Guinan's voice took on. She was not put at ease by the concern in her eyes. "But he's worth it, Beverly."  
  
Again, it were as if she'd read her mind like a book. Over and over in the last 48 hours Beverly had questioned why she'd even come here. Had she not been humiliated enough? What in the world was she hoping to gain? To win back Picard's love? She could not say she even wanted it. Pathetic as it was, she still clung to some connection with him – some glimmer of hope that her best friend might still be there for her. It would have almost been easier if he'd died. 'No, it wouldn't have. Because now you have hope. And if he'd died, that part of you would have gone with him.' Beverly admitted this to herself, painful as it was to hear. She was still bound to a man who wanted nothing to do with her.  
  
Guinan laid a hand on Beverly's shoulder. "It's good that you're having these thoughts. When you are finally ready to approach him, you'll need to be very clear, and very focused. Take your time Beverly. Ask yourself why you're here, on the Enterprise. And when you have that answer, then you'll be ready to go to him."  
  
Crusher's flickering blue eyes met Guinan's steady dark brown. "What about Anna? And the child?" She choked on the words as they came out. The child.  
  
"That's the part of this that's most confusing to me. I have no sense of Anna Young, or where she fits into Picard's life." Guinan was silent for a moment. "It's almost as if she appeared from nowhere." She became introspective with the last statement, as if this were the first time she herself were having these thoughts. "But you should be prepared to deal with her – and with his feelings for her." Her eyes drilled into Beverly's.  
  
Crusher nodded silently, slowly. Guinan strolled toward the door and Beverly remained a few paces behind. The Doctor spoke, her eyes and voice distracted. "Whatever will happen will happen soon."  
  
Guinan turned back as she stood on the other side of the door. "You won't be alone, Beverly." She stepped away from the sensor and the doors swished shut. For minutes more Beverly stared at the doorway. Finally, she retreated to the couch, where she curled herself into the cushions and took up study of the mysterious cube. She stayed that way for several hours, lost in thought.

xxxxx  
  
"Computer, location of Captain Picard?" Beverly had spent the day in guest quarters, unwilling to venture out and risk being recognized. When she left, it would be with one purpose in mind.  
  
The computer's cool monotone answered back promptly. "Captain Picard is in his quarters."  
  
Beverly paced in front of the stars. "Deanna?" She did not want to give her identity over the open comm., unsure of where the Counselor may be and with whom.  
  
"Yes?" Troi's tone was querulous.  
  
"I wanted to let you know," Beverly paused. What she had to say was straightforward, but it was a Herculean effort to form and speak the words. Deanna waited patiently. "I'm going to see the Captain now."  
  
Troi answered back in a soothing, measured voice. "Are you sure you're ready?" It was neither encouraging nor discouraging, simply meant to prompt Beverly to reflect.  
  
"Yes." Beverly spoke with a force of will she did not feel. "I've been ready for a while now – I've just been afraid." Her mouth twitched upward. She continued to pace as she spoke to the bookshelf in her cabin, wringing her hands.  
  
"That's understandable. If you need anything, I'll be in my quarters." Deanna sensed the duality of Beverly's hesitation and resolve. It was a horrible situation for her friend to face.  
  
"Thank you." Beverly smiled crookedly and tapped at her communicator. Her intense crystalline blue eyes were focused on a distant point on the wall, and her mind was already a million miles away and racing in anticipation of her confrontation with Picard.  
  
She turned quickly to the coffee table and snatched up the cube, placing it into the pocket of her trousers. She paused only a second before stalking determinedly out the doors and to the lift that would take her face to face with her nightmares.  
  
She stepped hesitantly from the lift and into the corridor, placing one foot in front of the other and slowly closing the distance toward the Captain's quarters. Despite her best efforts she arrived there momentarily. She paused just outside of the sensor range of the doors. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a full minute, her hands flat at her sides. As she opened her eyes she clenched her fists and stepped forward to press the chime.  
  
She was utterly unprepared for what met her one the other side.

xxxxx  
  
The doors slid back to reveal a smiling Anna Young. She looked as lithe and serene as she had that day over a year ago, her clover honey hair hanging down in curls and waves over her thin frame. Her eyes were still bewitchingly dark amber, her skin a flawless olive. "Beverly Crusher. I've been expecting you. Please. Come in."  
  
Beverly was completely disarmed. It was not like her to be at a loss for words, and yet there she was stunned into silence. She was developing a distinct dislike for this woman. She finally came to her senses when Anna moved to the side and extended her arm in welcome.  
  
Beverly stepped into a cabin that was completely antiseptic. Jean-Luc had never been one for clutter, but this was extreme. Her guest quarters had more character. As for the Captain, he was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Jean-Luc has just returned to his ready room. I reminded him of a critical report he'd left unfinished." Anna spoke with complete composure. She answered Beverly's unspoken question without hesitation. "Tell me, Doctor. Why are you here?" Anna studied Crusher, who was uncomfortably glancing around. Now the women's eyes met, Beverly's cold as ice and Anna's two burning embers.  
  
"I came here..." Beverly began resolutely, but could not complete her thought. She was unexpectedly absorbed in Anna's eyes. "I came..." She struggled to maintain her train of thought. "I..."  
  
She turned as the bedroom doors on her left swished open. Jack walked out, grinning fit to burst. "Bev. You ready?" He strutted up, took her arm and kissed her on the cheek before proceeding to the far side of the cabin and grabbing a duffel bag she'd not seen before.  
  
She felt relief and smiled. "Jack. I'm glad you're here. This woman...." Her voice trailed off as she turned a circle looking for Anna. She was nowhere to be seen. Beverly's mind was a muddled haze. She turned back to Jack, seeking an answer. But somehow seeing him only added to her confusion. "Jack?"  
  
His grin broke and his face became concerned. He crossed back over to her. He took her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes. "You okay Bev?"  
  
She gazed back into his deep brown eyes, full of worry, love, and as always a spark of mischief buried deep down. "Yes. I'm fine." Her head cleared and she was caught up in a warm and overwhelming sense of contentment. Her mind came into focus, but as it did so she felt a hot stab of pain at her temples. She cried out and her hands flew to her forehead. Jack's strong arms grabbed her as her knees gave way.  
  
"Hon. Let's get you to sickbay. What's going on?" His voice was confused and concerned.  
  
As quickly as the pain struck it disappeared. "No. It's gone. I'm fine now – really." She stood and looked up into his handsome face. She reached up and ran a hand through his thick brown hair. "Just fine." She smiled warmly and it touched her eyes.  
  
"Good. 'Cause we've got to go get Wes, remember?" He still watched her with a guarded expression. Doctors always made the worst patients.  
  
"Stop looking at me like that Jack Crusher." She adopted a stern tone and expression.  
  
"What?" He set down the bag and came back over, grabbing her up roughly in his arms. "Now I can't even look at my own wife?" He buried his face and hands in her hair, kissing her delicate neck through the silken red locks.  
  
She could not say why, but his love was overwhelmingly warm and comforting. It echoed through her soul, as though she had been without it for such a long time. What an odd feeling. She quickly dismissed it.  
  
Currently Beverly was getting quite lost in another feeling – that of Jack's firm hands roaming over her body lustily. "Jack." She spoke in a mockingly derisive tone and made a flimsy attempt to push him off.  
  
"What?" He stood his ground and continued moving his hands and mouth over her body.  
  
"Wesley, remember?" She swatted playfully at his shoulder, steadily losing her will to stop the seduction in progress.  
  
"We were going to be early anyway. Will you stop distracting me already?" He abated further discussion as he swept her up in his arms and into the bedroom.  
  
"Anything you say, Mr. Crusher." Beverly ceased conscious thought and concentrated on the very real, very intense sensations Jack was producing deep inside her.

xxxxx  
  
Jean-Luc Picard walked through his cabin doors and did not immediately notice the red-headed woman sitting calmly in his lounge chair and staring blankly at the far wall. His first thought, as always, was Anna.  
  
He went to her immediately and pulled her into his arms, closing his eyes in relief as he buried his face in her hair. Secure in her presence, he pulled back and ran his hands over her stomach, his eyes bright on hers and inquisitive.  
  
"He's fine Jean-Luc." She answered coolly as she always did. He had become quite obsessed with the health of their unborn child. She smiled at the thought. Were she to ask, he would fly the Enterprise into a black hole for her or his soon-to-be son. This child had only strengthened her hold over the man, as she had anticipated.  
  
Satisfied with her answer, he visibly relaxed and turned toward the replicator to decide on dinner. He was quite famished. He was startled, but rather unconcerned at the sight of the long-lost Beverly Crusher in his cabin. "What is she doing here?" His tone was more of annoyance than surprise.  
  
"She is inconsequential. Think no more of it." Anna waved her hand and Picard's steel grey eyes flickered momentarily. For a moment he seemed troubled as a ghost of doubt crossed his mind. He sought Anna's assurance and as always was placated as she offered it to him. She strolled over and ran a hand slowly down his arm. "It will be fine. She cannot hurt me Jean- Luc. Or him." She passed a hand protectively over her gently protruding belly.  
  
He nodded, no longer troubled, and went back about his original business. When he spoke his tone was conversational and confident as always. Beverly's presence was the farthest thing from his mind. "Tell me, how was your day?"  
  
"It was lovely." Anna rarely spoke of the details of her day – Jean-Luc would little understand. It really didn't matter one way or the other, however. She could fill his mind with a thousand meaningless details at the blink of an eye, should she chose to. Today she was more occupied with the Doctor.  
  
Anna had expected the woman to arrive at their doorstep eventually. She knew everything about Crusher, more than the woman knew about herself. Truthfully though, she had also expected the presence of the child to hold her at bay a while longer. The timing of her visit was relatively inconsequential, however, as the Doctor was integral to achieving her final ambitions.  
  
"And your day, Jean-Luc – were you able to fulfill my requests?" Anna fixed her golden eyes on Picard. So far he had done well in all tasks she had given him. Things were growing more complex though, and more pivotal. Perfect execution was increasingly critical.  
  
"Yes, love, each of them. I've left a padd on the desk for your review." He came to rest next to her on the sofa. He sipped his tea peacefully, saucer in one hand and a delicate cup in the other. He waited patiently for her to speak again, his eyes roaming lovingly over her lithe body as he did so.  
  
She smiled again as she would at a young child. "You've done well."  
  
He basked in the warmth of her approval.

xxxxx  
  
Beverly awoke in a state of utter bliss. She practically purred as she rolled over, reaching for Jack. She was not alarmed when he was not there, but opened her eyes instead, remembering. He had gone to get Wesley. She flipped over again onto her back and closed her eyes contentedly, pulling the covers up to her chin and smiling at their feel. She would cat nap until they arrived.  
  
Moments later the two burst through the cabin doors, Wesley making a beeline for her in the bed. He did not stop until he had flung himself over her.  
  
"Mom! Mom!" She opened her eyes and her arms to him, and he crawled up into them as she sat up to cradle him.  
  
"Yes, Wes? What is it?" She smoothed an errant cowlick on the side of his temple and kissed it before turning him to face her. His warm brown eyes shone with excitement.  
  
"Today we got to set up our very own warp-field models in elementary engineering!" He spoke in an exuberant, clear voice.  
  
"At least our little Chief Engineer here did." Jack's proud voice boomed through the cabin. He came to the side of the bed and scooped Wesley up, twirling him around in his arms before unceremoniously dumping him back in his mother's lap.  
  
Wesley descended into fits of hysterical giggles. "Dad!"  
  
"His project was the only one that would have actually powered our little ship here." Jack sat down on the bed and leaned over to kiss Beverly on the cheek. She was fresh from her nap, still glowing. She wondered briefly which ship they were on. She could not remember. The question seemed unimportant to her, and she pushed it aside as one would thinking about whether they had had coffee or tea with breakfast that morning.  
  
"Well that must certainly work up an appetite. Who's hungry for dinner?" She looked from one boy to another.  
  
"Me, me!" Wesley raised his hand enthusiastically. Jack smiled and followed suit.  
  
"That makes three of us then." Beverly raised her own hand and drew her legs up and out of the bed.  
  
Jack took her hand and they shared a brief and intimate smile as they followed the bounding young Wesley into their living quarters.

xxxxx  
  
"Will she be here long?" Jean-Luc stood from the meal and looked contemptuously over to the side of the living room where Crusher had been seated motionless for the last hour.  
  
"Not much longer, no." Anna dabbed a napkin at the corner of her mouth as she continued to go through the motions of enjoying her dinner. She never actually ate anything at her meals with Jean-Luc, but he would not believe anyone should they tell him that.  
  
"Ah. Well then. I think I'll do a little reading before I turn in. There's an archeology text we just picked up from a new Federation member. I've been meaning to get to it for the last month." He walked over to the shelves and pulled down the book in question. He walked directly over to the couch and sat, crossing his legs and thumbing through before settling at the beginning. Crusher was no more than a foot from him, but he did not acknowledge her presence in the slightest.  
  
Anna stood and walked over to where he sat quietly reading. "I think you're awfully tired, no?" She ran a slender hand over his smooth head. He turned to meet her touch and closed his eyes.  
  
"You're right. I am quite sleepy." He tossed the thick anthology onto the coffee table where it fell with a thud. The woman in the corner did not react in the slightest. Picard stretched upward briefly and yawned. He moved to Anna and placed his hands on her long, thin arms and leaned in to kiss her cheek softly. "Are you coming?" His eyes lit with hope.  
  
She gave him a bemused and encouraging smile. "In a bit. Go now." Her tone was soft and suggestive, but decisive. He turned with no further comment and made his way to the bedroom.  
  
She turned back to Crusher and ran a hand gently down the red mane that hung loosely to her shoulders. "How are you, my dear? I imagine quite happy." Anna circled the chair, her hand never leaving the passive woman's head. "Happy indeed. And perhaps ready now to finish what you could not before."  
  
Anna crouched before Beverly and took her head in her hands. They were extraordinarily cool and dry, soothing. She moved close to Crusher and began whispering intently.

xxxxx  
  
Jack nuzzled her ear and pulled her close to him. "I love you Beverly Crusher."  
  
She smiled and held him tightly. She ran her hands through his thick, soft chestnut hair. They had put Wesley to bed and finished clearing up after dinner before retiring themselves. Jack was studying a pad as she fell asleep beside him, but he had woken her sometime later in a very pleasant manner.  
  
She chuckled and giggled as his breath tickled her ear. "I love you, Jack Crusher."  
  
He kissed her hungrily, fully on the mouth. They breathed together in contentment, both sated in each other and blissfully content in their lives. "Good. There's something I need you to do for me."  
  
"Mmmm. Anything." She pulled him against her body and rolled them over onto their sides, her face pressed against his neck.  
  
Her eyes were closed, and she did not see the wicked gleam in his eye as he began to whisper in her ear.

xxxxx  
  
Jean-Luc Picard lay on the far side of the bed sleeping peacefully. Light from a dim, ancient pulsar alternately illuminated and shadowed the cabin, creating a slow strobing effect against Beverly Crusher's face.  
  
Anna Young stood in the doorway, a smile curling her lips. Her eyes flashed brown, amber, lavender, red, and green in time with the pulsar. She rubbed her stomach rhythmically. The child was growing well, would arrive within a few months. This time it would be as planned, better than planned.  
  
When she had taken Picard she had not expected to become pregnant by him. That they were able to conceive was wondrous, rare even among miracles – the child was sure to be gifted even beyond her talents.  
  
Anna's role in the universe was unclear, even to her. She never held a knife, nor a weapon of any sort. But surely as a sun would rise and set she left death in her wake. It took many forms – war, plague, simple murder even. Some called her evil. Her image was represented in the mythology of hundreds of civilizations across the galaxy. She did not delight in the misery she brought, but found fulfillment in it – it was after all what she had been destined to do. And she was so good at it.  
  
Years and years ago (a lifetime by human standards, but moments by her own) she had woken one afternoon from a dream, and immediately made her way to the alpha quadrant of the galaxy. There she had expended a tremendous amount of energy following and manipulating Beverly Crusher and Jean-Luc Picard. As it always was, she was powerless to control whom she would visit. Occasionally the one she was called to resonated particularly loudly in her consciousness. These individuals were rare, and she would not be dissuaded from her work until it was completed, no matter the consequence.  
  
So it was with Beverly Crusher. She was to die, but not by Anna's hand, and not by the hand of any mortal. She was to die by her own hand, and without bearing another child. The one had been an accident, and Anna's failure to stop his conception and birth had troubled her to no end. Beverly was never to have consummated a relationship with Jack Crusher. Their relationship was unexpected and had caught Anna off guard. In her surprise she had been slow to act and the offspring was a result of her inaction. Already Wesley Crusher was slowly altering her work, and she felt a great dissonance as he wandered the galaxy.  
  
Soon enough he would find her. He sought her, though he did not know it yet. Should he succeed in his quest, she would need to extinguish him. He was eons younger, but she was wiser. Now that he had become a part of the fabric of the cosmos, his death would cause even more problems - but that could not be helped. Anna and Wesley could not co-exist, and her work was too important.  
  
This child within her was a mystery, even to her. Anna had arrived only just in time to stop the birth of the Crusher/Picard child, the daughter that surely would have meant Anna's death. Crusher was never to have another child, and never with Jean-Luc Picard. Her birth would bring a wave of balance and harmony that would echo throughout the quadrant, driving Anna out indefinitely. Alone the girl would be ruinous enough – but should she co-exist with her half-brother...... Anna could not fathom the results.  
  
Her hand had touched Beverly's life several times – in childhood, adulthood, and even recently. But the strength of will was strong in the woman, and there was more energy with her than with many Anna had dispatched. She had come so close with her last pass, nearly dispatching Picard and Crusher together. Loss alone was not enough to break Beverly, Anna had found. But perhaps love was.  
  
Love. Many believed Anna hated it, loathed it even. They imagined love as the antithesis of evil, the powerful white light that drove off the demon. But Anna craved love, fostered it, needed it in all her work. Love moved men and women to glorious, drunken, dizzy heights of emotion – towering cliffs on which many were so eager to dance, and so easy to push gently over the edge. Love was central to her work, as Doctor Crusher was about to prove.  
  
The willowy red head stood over Picard's bed, phaser in hand. Anna's sentimentality had gotten the better of her before, and she'd allowed Beverly the primal satisfaction of wielding a knife. Anna had judged that a visceral, intimate murder would serve to manipulate Beverly more easily – Picard's blood would not be dry on her hands before Crusher turned the knife on herself. She had miscalculated.  
  
This time, it would be quick. Beverly would not have time to think before she took her own life. And more importantly, she would be doing it out of love. She would do it because Jack had asked. Jack had insisted that they could be together. After a year of soulless exile, it was an offer Beverly could not resist, even if she didn't understand why.  
  
Anna waited as the play unfolded in Beverly's head. Right now, she saw herself dressing and headed toward the bridge. In a few moments she would arrive and draw on Jean-Luc. In reality she would murder the man as he slept. In her head she would murder him on the bridge, filled with righteous anger to avenge a crime Picard had never committed. In her fantasy Beverly would then be shot by a security crewman – but in reality she would turn her own phaser on herself.

xxxxx  
  
Beverly flew onto the lift nearest her quarters. Jack had asked her to do this thing, and though she was dubious, she would do it for him. She did not understand why he wanted Jean-Luc dead. They were all great friends. But he had wanted it so badly – and she could not refuse his pleading, watery brown eyes.  
  
She wrung her hands nervously and paced around the small room as it sped toward her destination, soft blue lights streaking by. "I'll do it Jack, I'll do it. I promise."  
  
Momentarily the lift slowed and finally stopped. The doors swished open. The scene on the bridge was calm. Science officers sat at the aft stations, intent on their tasks. At the helm, an ensign stood as another relieved her of duty. At the center, Jean-Luc Picard sat, his legs crossed, studying a padd.  
  
He looked up as she walked down the ramp. Something told her that this was not right – she was on the Enterprise – but Jack had never been on the Enterprise. And Jean-Luc was so old. She paused mid-way down the ramp.  
  
Picard caught her eye and raised his brow in question. "Is there something we can do for you, Doctor?"  
  
His voice broke her confused concentration, and she continued forward. "Yes." She stood directly in front of a nonplussed Picard and thrust her hand into her pocket to draw a small handheld phaser. But instead of the cool metal of a weapon, she grasped a different object entirely.


	4. Up from Canaan Conclusion

  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Up from Canaan  
  
Four  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Dumbfounded, she pulled out a small cube. It rested in her palm. It seemed to shine from within – almost to glow with a soft white light.  
  
She closed her hand in a fist and whirled around as a voice spoke from behind her. A dark woman in a large hat and a strange dress stood, hands folded at her stomach. "You can make this right, Beverly."  
  
"What.... Who....," she stammered as she turned back to Picard, who now stood behind her.  
  
"Doctor?" He reached out to take her arm, his face a mask of concern. She started back, alarmed. More than anything his concern was disconcerting to her. It rippled through her body and to her soul. Concern. Concern was only something seen in love. Love – it was not just worry in his eyes – there was love there too.  
  
The small object in her hand was now very cold, and glowing very brightly. The love in his eyes affected her physically. She was almost sick with joy, but she did not know why. She was here on an errand for Jack, her husband. Jack. She tried to focus on him, but his image was..... dim. It glimmered like a mirage, just beyond the firm grasp of her memory.  
  
There was a humming in her head, growing louder by the second. It was extremely hard to concentrate. She shook her head, red hair flying about her shoulders. It hung in disarray about her face as she stared dumbly at Picard. "No." She reached into her left pocket and pulled out the phaser she'd brought. Its weight in her hand was a comfort. She aimed it steadily at Picard's chest.  
  
Immediately Worf bounded over the aft rail and drew his own phaser. "Drop your weapon now Doctor." His tone was menacing.  
  
Picard stood unfazed and waved the anxious Klingon off. "Stand down Mr. Worf." As he spoke he did not break eye contact with Crusher. "Beverly, can I ask what you mean to do with that?"  
  
"I." Doctor Crusher clenched her hands tightly around the phaser and the ice cold cube. As she trained it on Picard her hand began to shake. The humming was growing louder in her head, and her right hand ever colder. And Picard was staring at her in the most intent way.  
  
Jean-Luc now stood very close to her. His hand held tightly to her arm. "Doctor Crusher, are you quite alright?" His hazel eyes moved back and forth over hers, searching for an answer to explain her vacant expression.  
  
She looked back over her shoulder toward where the woman had stood. Who was she? Why was she here on the bridge of the Enterprise? But when she looked back the dark figure was gone. Only a field of stars and a soft pulsar met her gaze through the forward viewer.  
  
"Hey. Beverly." He took her other arm and brought her about to face him fully.  
  
She clutched the rapidly cooling cube in her hand tightly. It shone now through her fingers with the brilliance of a star. She brought it up to eye level and stared at her glowing fist in numb awe. As she did so her left arm came to rest at her side.  
  
She dropped the phaser and touched his face gently, an innocent wonder shining in her eyes. "I. Yes. I think it's OK now, Jean-Luc."  
  
A searing light erupted in front of her, and she looked around as her vision slowly cleared.

xxxx  
  
Beverly stood in the Captain's darkened quarters as he lay sleeping in front of her. In one hand she held a phaser, and in the other the small cube Guinan had given her over a year ago. She began to register more of her surroundings, and as she did, she immediately dropped both objects in her hands.  
  
The phaser was red hot, and had severely burned her hand. The cube was ice cold, and had burned the other just as badly. "Aahh." She raised her hands in front of her in awe.  
  
Had she not been staring at them so intently, she might have noticed as a slender woman shimmered out of sight in the corner of the bedroom. But she never noticed.  
  
Beverly stalked out of the bedroom and into the living room, headed toward the console to summon sickbay, directly past a very unhappy Anna Young. Again she had failed. The chain of events she had linked together had snapped, and could not be corrected. It was time for her to leave. She was deeply disappointed, but not angry. Such was her work. Since she could never take direct action, she was relegated to simply manipulating people and events as their paths spun out before them – pushing a choice here, altering a decision there. The game was always fair. She forced nothing on anyone, and gave everyone opportunity to escape, to alter the outcome. All players must be afforded free will. In such a game one was bound to lose on occasion – though she seldom did.  
  
Anna crossed her hands over her chest and withdrew fully from that particular plane of existence. She had not done what she had set out to do with Beverly Crusher this time, but she was leaving with much more. Sometimes even she was surprised by a turn of events, and the child was just such a thing. What role would it play? Time would tell.  
  
A smile flitted across her lips as she departed. Behind her, the sounds of the Ave Maria began to fill the cabin of Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Up from Canaan  
  
Epilogue  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Beverly sat in her cabin, tracing lazy circles on the reflective obsidian surface of her tabletop with her delicate fingers.  
  
She had returned to the Enterprise to exorcise her demons, but had instead unleashed one even more powerful than memory. It was beyond her imagination that someone as seemingly powerful as the being Anna Young would have a vendetta against her. She had wracked her brain to think of what she might have done, how she might have crossed this woman's path. She was at a complete loss.  
  
The fact remained that "Anna" had made two distinct attempts to kill both her and Jean-Luc. The fact also remained that they were seemingly powerless to stop her, to even know when she was about to strike. Even Guinan had been unable to offer any explanation as to the nature of this person, this mysterious being that haunted them.  
  
So Beverly had made a decision. Her love for Jean-Luc seemed so removed now, so faded. It was the love one would feel for an estranged parent, or a long lost brother. It no longer inspired her, no longer made her feel proud, or passionate or strong. It simply made her tired, worried, and scared.  
  
Tears began to stream down her face as she thought of her impending departure. She had lost so much in such a short time. A little more than a year ago Beverly had everything she'd wanted in the palm of her hand – a brilliant career, the love of her life, and a baby on the way. Each has disappeared before her eyes. She smiled ironically - at least she could lose nothing more. She would throw herself into her work on the Titan, seek to rebuild a purpose in her life. Arveda, Jack, Jean-Luc, Anna. How many times could she start over?  
  
"At least one more time." Her voice was shaky. Sighing deeply she stood and walked to the view port. The dim starlight illuminated the tracks of the tears as they coursed down her pale face. 

xxxx  
  
"I remember nothing. It was as though I awoke from a long dream." Jean-Luc ran a hand over his smooth head as he paced Deanna's office. "I've lost a year of my life, two children, and the woman I love." He sank into a nearby chair and clasped his hands before him, his head down. It was Katan all over. Except this time what he lost was much more than a few minutes, and much more tangible.  
  
Beverly had barely spoken to him since her return to the Enterprise and the strange events in his cabin. She was due to leave for Caldos again within the week, where she would regroup before taking a new assignment with Will Riker on the Titan. Anna and the child had disappeared without a trace. But she had not left quietly. He had awoken that evening to a lone cello mournfully bellowing the Ave Maria. It took him a moment, but not much longer, to recognize the last time he had heard the hymn.  
  
Beverly recognized it as well, and had wailed in agony as she turned toward him. "NO. No. No." She sank to her knees on the thin carpet, her palms open in supplication as she did so, angry red burns marring the white skin. It was all too real to her – the last year of her life spent in mourning, and the horrifying realization that it had all been a manipulation. A manipulation and a mystery, it seemed, that would not rest.  
  
He had seen the fear in her since that night. Fear of him, and fear of their unknown stalker. The enemy had a face now – perhaps. It was impossible to tell whether the form Anna had chosen was her true being. She had proven powerful, elusive, and persistent. Twice now she had struck, and both attempts had been very nearly fatal for both Beverly and Jean-Luc. (They did not now that these two instances were not isolated, nor the only time Anna had intervened in their lives. If they had, Picard might have given more credence to Beverly's fears).  
  
"Does she even love me anymore?" His delivery was straightforward and stern, but the agony in his eyes belied the torture of his soul to the Counselor. Her black eyes revealed nothing but a reflection of his plight. Cruelly, Picard knew nothing of his actions on their wedding day, or the year after. He was aghast at learning of the events that had transpired and his part in them. And the awful truth was that when he had awoken that night with Beverly standing over him, he had felt just as he had when he woke the morning of his wedding, before Anna had intervened – thinking of nothing but his undying and overwhelming love for Beverly Crusher.  
  
The once proud Doctor was now hollow, a husk of the formerly vibrant officer he had come to know and adore. The love and friendship, the life they had spent decades building had vanished, spirited away in the night and as unreachable now as the woman who haunted them.  
  
"She will not even let me apologize." Jean-Luc had been by to see Beverly a number of times, but she would not speak to him. What Deanna could not bring herself to tell Picard was that Beverly was terribly afraid of him. She was convinced that someone, something, was fixated on him, bound to murder him by her hand.  
  
"Captain." Deanna stood and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was incredibly tense, even for Jean-Luc Picard. "Give it some time." Troi had no idea if Beverly and Jean-Luc would find their way back to each other – but if they could it would not be a quick process. Beverly had been hurt, deeply, whether Picard had done it consciously or not. "Right now Beverly is lost, confused, and in a great deal of pain. She needs time to heal."  
  
Picard turned, his features greatly aged by the shadows in his eyes. "I desire only to be the one to help her do so."  
  
"I know." Deanna took his hands in hers. "Be patient. And have faith in her. It took a lot of courage for her to come back here and face you. There is a part of Beverly that loves you very much. Try to remember that." Her dark eyes fired with compassion.  
  
Picard nodded, his own eyes bright with unshed tears. When he spoke his voice was thick with emotion. "Thank you Counselor - Deanna." He paused and cleared his throat. "I think I would like to be alone now."  
  
She released his hands and smiled in reassurance before turning and quietly leaving. She did not have to imagine the despair in the heart of this great man – its presence in her mind was almost overpowering.  
  
As the doors to the cabin closed, Picard stopped his pacing and stared out of the view port. His life lay in ruin about him, his future as seemingly empty as the expanse of space. Silently, he placed his head in his hands and began to sob.

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End

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"The very center of our union is caving in. I can't endure. I am the archive of our failure."  
  
Sarah McLachlan – Black and White – Surfacing – www. sarahmclachlan .com

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A/N: Indeed, this is a sequel to Morning of the Magicians. Plotline clearly not resolved, so I'll let you know when the muse strikes again.

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End file.
